


Living in Daydreams

by hummingbirdbandit



Series: Stone's Throw Away From A Glass House [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Instability, Minor Violence, Soul Splinters, boys being insufferable, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbirdbandit/pseuds/hummingbirdbandit
Summary: Some part of him wanted to bow to Jake’s judgment and tell him about the shattering, about the cracks he could feel in his soul, coming more and more easily each day as he destabilized. He wanted to cry and beg and plead for him to use his hope powers to will the splinters back inside of him so he could feel whole again, instead of always feeling stretched and weak like watered-down tea.  He didn’t do any of this.





	Living in Daydreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [egossweetheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/egossweetheart/gifts).



> This is the second piece in the "Stone's Throw Away From A Glass House" series. You don't need to have read the first to keep up - the pieces in this series are non-sequential.
> 
> Written for egossweetheart - thank you for your help naming the stories in this series! Couldn't have done it without you.

Dirk’s heart thumped madly in his chest and blood dripped from his busted knuckles as he stood over Dave’s crumpled, broken form. His body thrummed with adrenaline and a grin crept across his gaunt, scruff face. A song of power and control rang through his blood and he let out the slightest chuckle.

“Get up,” he said. Dave shook at his feet. Dirk’s hands flexed, testing the sensation. When Dave didn’t move, the joy of mindless exertion flipped instantly to irritation and rage. “I said get the fuck up, bro.”

He watched as Dave drug himself up, first to his knees and then to his feet. Dave’s face was a mass of bruises and split skin, contorted into a grimace of defiance. A sword slipped into his hand, presumably from his strife deck, and his right foot canted back into a battle stance.

“I’m not scared of you,” Dave said, voice deadpan. “You’re dead. I buried you.”

Dirk could recite every detail by now, but was helpless to do anything but watch as he drew his own sword and pointed it at Dave - a challenge. “If you can’t even face me without shaking like a baby, how are you ever gonna take down Jack?” Cruelty dripped from his laugh. “Gonna let all your little friends down? Fight me. Learn to be a fucking hero.”

Dave rushed him. Blades flashed and collided as they danced, and Dirk cackled with exhilaration. He played with Dave, flashstepping around him with ease and tossing Cal at him when he grew bored. A twitch of the wrist, a nudge of the foot, and he sent Dave sprawling, his sword snapped clean in two. Dave cried out in pain as he landed on his face and tried to scramble to his feet but Dirk stopped him with a foot to the lower back. He shoved Dave back to the ground, leaning down and pulling his head back by the hair and pressing the blade of his sword to Dave’s throat.

“Revenge is a just death, Dave,” he spat, and pulled the blade across his brother’s throat.

* * *

 

Dirk jolted awake with a cry, scrambling blindly in the darkness of his bedroom and accidentally punching Jake in the face as he reached out to calm him.

“Christ, Dirk, you about did me in just then! Those are some bony knuckles you’ve got there,” Jake chastised, fumbling for his glasses as he rubbed at the impact site - Dirk could just barely make him out in the dark. The lamp kicked on and a flood of embarrassment washed through Dirk as he spied the bright red blotch on Jake’s cheekbone. That was going to bruise. Dirk dove for his shades and slipped them on, knowing that if Jake interrogated him and he tried to lie, his eyes would no doubt give him away. Jake gave him a knowing look but didn’t comment as he slipped his own glasses onto the tip of his nose.

Even in his distraught post-dream state, Dirk was entranced by how beautiful Jake English was. Long lashes framed bright green eyes, a smattering of freckles dusted his cheeks, and his mouth, even turned down into a frown, looked soft and inviting. Dirk wanted nothing more than to lean into him and kiss his worries away and only return to himself when he could no longer remember his own name. He wrapped his arms around himself.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Jake nodded.

“You never do.”

The two sat in a silence stretched too thin to be comfortable. Another few seconds and Jake would start asking questions. Another few seconds and Dirk would start avoiding the answers. Dirk willed him to get on with it. Dirk willed him to stay silent.

“What was it about?”

“I don’t remember.” His response was too quick. He could feel his pants catch fire as the hurt in Jake’s eyes seeped into his chest. The silence stretched farther. Dirk felt himself stretching, too. He fought to stay in the moment. He anchored himself on Jake’s eyes, on the patch of skin where their knees pressed together. He dredged up memories he knew to be his and his alone - coffee with Roxy yesterday. Karkat’s strange, alien cooking. Curling up against Jake and listening to him talk in his sleep. This was him. He was home.

“I know it has to do with the splinters, Dirk.”

“Who told you that?” He knew who told him - it was Brain Ghost Dirk. He knew because he had been there, too. Just an unwilling passenger, watching from within as the love of his life bantered and flirted with a clone that wore his skin. He bit his tongue and pressed his knee harder into Jake’s. Here. Now. This body. These memories.

“I wish you would talk to me,” Jake whispered, staring through him. His gaze was fire, melting the beams that held up Dirk’s crumbling psyche. A tear slipped down his face and he felt a crack, painful in his chest. Even as he stared into Jake’s eyes, he saw himself skipping stones with Roxy on the roof of his apartment building, admiring the ocean view - except that Roxy had never been to his apartment building. A wave of vertigo hit him as he viewed the tandem moments and he bit his tongue, hard, snapping back into himself with a painful jolt. He flinched and looked away from Jake.

“And say what?”

“Oh for frigs friggin sake, Dirk, anything!” Jake exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air with a frustrated noise. “You’re more hush hush than a mute man in a library, and it’s clear whatever is going on is breaking you apart so why not talk and let me help you? It’s painful to watch you do this to yourself. Whatever this even is.”

Dirk’s mind reeled. Some part of him wanted to bow to Jake’s judgment and tell him about the shattering, about the cracks he could feel in his soul, coming more and more easily each day as he destabilized. He wanted to tell him about the nightmares, and having to watch himself night after night as some version of him destroyed his brother inside and out. He wanted to cry and beg and plead for him to use his hope powers to will the splinters back inside of him so he could feel whole again, instead of always feeling stretched and weak like watered-down tea. He didn’t do any of this.

“It was just a nightmare, Jake. Everyone gets them. They’ll stop eventually. I can sleep on the couch from now on so I don’t wake you.”

Jake protested. Dirk slept on the couch.

* * *

 

The coffee was just a touch too hot, heavy and bitter on Roxy’s tongue as she sipped the caffeinated nectar of the gods. She breathed in the familiar aroma and waited patiently for Dirk to propose a topic of conversation. It was always much more fun talking when he started their conversations – more like banter and less like pulling teeth. It had been more difficult, of late, to get him to open up in the first place. Something was wrong, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She had all the time in the world.

Dirk flinched and finally reached for his coffee. He ripped open four packs of sugar and tipped them into his drink, head down and shoulders slumped. Roxy sighed.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Dirk shrugged.

“Nightmares. That can’t be unique to me.” He looked pained. Jake and the others might have been blind to Dirk’s facial expressions, but Roxy knew him better than anyone, and the despair was plain as day on his wall of a face. She placed a hand on his, gripping it tightly.

“No, it’s not. What IS unique to you is having a badass awesome friend who calls you on your bullshit. Now come on, DStri, tell me what’s up. What’s the DL? What’s eating you, Strider?” Dirk clutched her hand and his jaw clenched.

“If I tell you, you can’t say a word. To anyone. Especially Dave. Promise me, Rox.” Unease settled in Roxy’s gut. Dirk was a private person, but something about his tone had her feeling small and helpless, her hand held in a vice grip and her eyes trapped in the glint of his shades.

“Of course, Dirk,” she whispered. He nodded.

“You had a dream about me last night.” Roxy’s blood ran cold.

“What?”

“You had a dream about me. Last night. We were… um…” He coughed and raised an eyebrow. A flush crept up Roxy’s face and clear down her back. She withdrew her hand and crossed her arms in front of her, mortified. Through all of her bravado and flirting with Dirk among the years, she had never wanted him to know just how she felt about him. She was over it, really she was, and she couldn’t control what her subconscious mind did while she slept. She opened her mouth to say as much, and Dirk held up a silencing hand.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you don’t do it on purpose. No one can control their dreams. Believe me, I know.” His voice dipped low and he stirred his coffee mindlessly. His fingers moved dexterously, years of precise engineering work distilled into deft twitches of finely-tuned muscles. “I’m there, Roxy. Every time. Not just for you, for everyone. When Jake talks to that… ghost. When you dream of me. When Dave-” He choked, and Roxy saw tears dripping down his face into his cup. Her heart ached for him.

“Dirk, why didn’t you tell me about this?” she asked. He stared at her blankly.

“Would you have really wanted to know?” he asked. Tears streaked down his face under his shades. He made no move to clear them. “No one wants to constantly wonder if their friend is in their head. I already feel like enough of a voyeur without everyone whispering about it when I’m not around.” Roxy nodded.

“Then why are you telling me this now?” Dirk stared through her for a long moment. He flinched and she felt his eyes snap back to her.

“Can we walk?” he asked, pushing up out of his chair. Roxy followed him out the door.

* * *

 

Rose tucked a scrap of paper into the novel she had stolen off of Karkat the previous day and placed the book on the rough-hewn coffee table Kanaya had picked out for their kitchen. The dark wood contrasted with the butter yellow walls and burnt umber curtains, and Rose questioned Kanaya’s choice of décor, but she reminded herself of the agreement they had made in regards to the house and shrugged it off. Jade asked her a question.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, pulling herself out of her contemplations. Her inflection said “I don’t believe what I’m hearing” instead of “I wasn’t listening” and she considered this a success. Jade sighed and pushed her unruly hair back from her eyes.

“I know it sounds unlikely, but I really do thing he could manage it. Princes are destroyers, right? And our powers seem heavily dependent on our own understanding of their limits. Why couldn’t he just destroy the splinters?”

At the other end of the table, Roxy perked up. “That’s a great idea! Could he do that?” She looked to Rose expectantly. Rose sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples. She reached deep into her consciousness to the small pressure planted in the base of her skull and pressed hard into it, letting the familiar darkness flood her senses. She caressed the thread of connection to the great Horrorterrors, enforcing her identity and asking them politely for the information only they could provide. It had been a long time since she had used her abilities, and the Horrorterrors made sure she was aware of this fact. She refused to bow to their intimidation and they conceded to her what she wished to know. The information they imparted was not promising.

Rose opened her eyes to her friends questioning gazes and placed an apologetic grin on her face. “It seems unlikely.”

“Why not?” Jade asked. Rose stood to get a glass of water. Her head throbbed with the exertion of using her seer powers. The connection became weaker each day – it wouldn’t be long until she was forced to abandon the attempts to contact the Horrorterrors altogether. The thought was equal parts frightening and comforting.

“They weren’t clear. I would wager it is because the splinters are parts of Dirk. To destroy them would be to destroy himself. They are parts of the whole, broken and scattered. Our best bet would be to attempt to return the splinters to Dirk, but I’m not sure if this is even possible. Dirk’s class is focused in destroying his aspect – specifically, destroying his aspect within himself. Were he a witch, or even a thief… but then, he wouldn’t be having this problem, would he?” She sipped at the glass of water. Roxy and Jade exchanged a glace, and Rose cursed her headache. The two girls were notoriously good at communicating nonverbally, and were she at her best, she could have read them like one of her trashy romance novels. As it stood, she wouldn’t be reading any books until she had a long nap.

“What if…” Roxy started.

“…we used our powers to help him?” Jade finished. “His powers are in destruction, but not all of ours are. I’m a witch – I know things about manipulating aspects. And Roxy is a rogue of void. If anyone could get their hands on these splinters, it would be her. And you have your seer...thing. You could give us insight and advice as we worked! With all of us together, surely we can come up with something!” Rose’s eyebrow flicked upwards, and she shot a look at Roxy.

“That would require making Dirk aware that you betrayed his trust and confided in us. Are you sure he would listen to what you had to say after that revelation, Roxy?”

“He doesn’t have to know I told you. I could tell him it was my idea,” Roxy offered. Rose’s eyebrow crept higher and Roxy’s face fell. “Yeah, I know. Bad idea. So we’re back at square one.”

Rose returned to her seat at the table. She wracked her aching brain for a solution, surprised when it lapsed into a moment of clarity.

“What about Jake?”

* * *

 

Jake hefted a log onto the fire and sat beside his ectobiological grandmother, drinking in the crisp night air and the glorious silence. He loved Dirk, really he did, but the boy plum wore him out after a few days. These trips out to the woods were his moment to recharge and get some time to himself. Never before had Jade requested to accompany him, and he was excited to have some time together to get to know the woman he had lost so long ago, even if it meant sacrificing some of his alone time.

The two sat in amicable silence, campsite prepared for the evening and a small pot of stew bubbling on the fire. Jake had thoroughly enjoyed hunting with Jade – having someone to rival his own marksmanship had been a wonderful exercise, and he was sore and hungry. It had been a nice day.

They began to exchange stories from their respective sessions. Jake maintained his typical bravado, exclaiming at the right points and consoling Jade when she spoke of the time she spent alone. When their exchange began to dwindle, Jade brought up Dirk. Jake’s stomach dropped.

“What about Dirk?” he asked her, keeping his smile wide and his eyes bright. Jade’s hair blew in the gentle breeze. She shrugged nonchalantly.

“He seems to be struggling pretty badly,” she said. Jake swallowed.

“You noticed, too?”

“Everyone has. Rose thinks his soul has been splintering more easily now that the game is over. He doesn’t have control over the splinters and it’s killing him.”

Jake’s heart leapt into his throat. “I’m worried about him, Jade. But what is a man to do when his… friend… won’t open his mouth and spill those thoughts trapped in his noggin?” He stood and paced closer to the fire. Sparks jumped and cracked as smoke climbed towards the constellations overhead. “I think he feels he’s lost his mind, Jade. He is even more closed off than usual. Like he is clinging to himself and hoping those dang-blasted walls won’t fucking collapse and show a glimpse of what he’s feeling.”

“I know. But what if-” she leaned towards him conspiratorially, “I told you that Rose found a way for him to regain control over himself?”

“Like what? I’ve spent weeks trying to come up with a plan to help that curmudgeonly nincompoop, to no avail. Shucks buster, Jade, out with it!” Jade stirred the strew and took a measured breath.

“Rose is convinced that Dirk could use his princely powers to destroy the splinters. Just suck them back up into himself and fuse them back together. But it would take a lot of practice and I dunno if any of us could convince him that it’s even possible. He doesn’t even know we know!” A twinge of optimism settled in Jake’s chest.

“You think it would work? How did our lovely friend Miss Lalonde come up with this plan?”

“Seer powers, I dunno. I don’t usually question Rose. She’s never wrong.” Jade’s eyes flashed with something unreadable in the light of the fire. “But it doesn’t really matter if we can’t tell him about it anyway.”

Realization shot through Jake and he groaned, planting his butt back on his log by the fire. “Did you come out here with me tonight to propose this idea to me, Jade?” She paused her stirring.

“…maybe. Did it work?” Jake’s irritation melted away and he laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“It appears it did, you dastardly lady, you.” He rifled through his bag for some bowls as Jade removed the pot from the fire. “Do you really think it would work?” Jade winked at him.

“We sure hope so.”

* * *

 

“Who told you?” Dirk asked, face a measured barricade against the fear and rage spinning in his skull. Jake raised his hands placatingly. Rage won out, and Dirk stepped back, releasing the front of Jake’s tank top. “Right. Doesn’t matter. I’m gone. I should have known Roxy couldn’t keep her mouth shut. I’m gonna get out of your hair and try to stay out of your head. Bye, Jake.” Dirk turned towards the door, and Jake snatched his wrist, effortlessly tugging him against him in a hug. He struggled for a moment, but even in his worst state, Dirk Strider was helpless to resist Jake’s arms around him.

“Devilfucking Dickens, Dirk, would you stop being so dramatic for one measly moment and let me talk to you! You don’t always have to go sprinting away from your problems like a runaway freight train. Stay here and let me tell you what I know, and if you still want to run off and sulk after, I’ll let you.” Dirk sighed against Jake’s collarbone and nodded, prying Jake’s arms off of him and taking a small step back.

“I’m listening.” Jake took his hand and tugged him towards the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and beckoning Dirk along. Spine ramrod straight, Dirk joined him. Adrenaline rocked him and made him shake. He fought it down and stared through Jake. A splinter tugged at his consciousness and he grimaced, biting it down in anger.

“Rose thinks you can overcome your splinters, Dirk. Bust them up and force them back into yourself like a puzzle.” Dirk raised an eyebrow.

“So Rose knows now, too?” Jake flinched.

“Afraid so. But that’s not important, Dirk! We’re your friends and I’m… well, I’m not really sure what we are, but I want to figure it out, and we can’t bloody well do that if you’re sliding out of your skin twice a day! I’m tired of watching you destroy yourself, and if there’s a chance you can take control again, don’t you owe it to yourself and to… to me… to at least try?”

Dirk’s chest tightened. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking, Jake. I don’t control this shit. It happens, and I get dragged along for the ride and it’s nauseating, okay? It’s sickening and infuriating and I feel like I’m half-living thousands of lives and not living any one of them at all. If it were as simple as just shutting them down, why wouldn’t I have done it already?”

“Maybe because you didn’t know you could?” Jake’s eyes were soft and pleading. Dirk cursed and looked away, his own eyes filling with tears. He couldn’t handle that gaze.

“What, do you seriously think that would work?” Dirk scoffed. Jake’s hand traced Dirk’s jaw, and his eyes fluttered shut against his will. Damn English and his magic hands.

“I know it would. I believe in you.” Dirk’s eyes snapped open.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare use your goddamn shitty reality-warping hope powers on me. I at least have the common courtesy to feel bad about eavesdropping on your conversations with that little doppelganger you made of me, the least you can do is not fuck with my head by believing in me so damn hard, you asshole!” Jake smiled gently.

“Can’t help it, Dirk. You’ve never disappointed me yet.”

Dirk left him there, sitting on the bed and staring holes of hope into his back. He reminded himself to throttle Roxy and went to take a shower.

* * *

 

Dirk stood over Dave’s broken body, laughing and clutching that damn devil puppet in his arms as his brother trembled beneath him. Not again. Please, not again. He echoed the now-familiar words in his mind as Dave drew himself up in defiance. They drew their swords. Something in Dirk broke.

Dirk strained and screamed in effort as he took control of the splinter – this ghost of a ghost, a memory of a man he never was – and dragged him away from Dave, who blinked in surprise. His arms trembled as he clung to the piece of himself seated inside of the dream and ripped it free. His head spun, and he felt a painful, lurching snap like an overworked rubber band, slamming back into his chest. He screamed and jolted awake, tumbling onto the hard wooden floor of his living room and gasping wildly for air.

The sound of running feet pounded overhead, and Jake came flying down the stairs, picking him up embarrassingly easily and cradling him on the couch. Dirk tried and failed to fight down the tears as he clung to Jake and sobbed openly. Soothing hands rubbed his back and ran through his still-damp hair, and he thanked every shitty star that whatever being decided on the alpha timeline chose Jake English to be a part of it. A warm thumb traced his cheekbone and wiped the tears from his eyes, and a pair of warm, soft lips pressed to his forehead. He melted against Jake and finally stopped shaking.

“You’re alright. I’m here. Great Caesar’s ghost, Dirk, you frightened me. I thought someone had broken in. Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you? You fell fairly hard.”

The ache in Dirk’s chest was already beginning to fade. He clung to Jake shamelessly and began to laugh, a hysterical choking noise that sounded uniquely alien as it fell from his lips. Jake let out a string of antiquated exclamations, and every word out of his mouth sent Dirk into another fit of giggles until he could barely breathe and had to shut Jake up with a kiss. He pulled away and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Fuck your fucking hope powers, you fucker,” he gasped out. Jake tensed against him.

“Did you-”

“Shut up. Don’t ruin this.” Dirk’s eyelids were heavy, and his body felt weak, like he was floating in an ocean of tar, and he was so ready to get the first good sleep he’d had in months. “Let’s go back to bed.”


End file.
